


Coming Out

by CarmillaCarmine, LaKoda0518



Series: A Study in Fan-Fiction [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Coming Out, Crack, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Fun, Happy Ending, Innuendo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-04 20:56:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17311730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarmillaCarmine/pseuds/CarmillaCarmine, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaKoda0518/pseuds/LaKoda0518
Summary: A Christmas special - continuation of A Study in Fan-Fiction.John and Sherlock are wrapping presents unaware that their friends and family can hear their conversation full of accidental innuendos.





	1. Chapter 1

 

John struggled through the bedroom door and dumped  the armload of wrapping paper tubes he’d been carrying onto the bed with a huff, causing Sherlock’s head to snap up in surprise. He'd been lying on top of the duvet in his usual thinking pose, attempting to try to figure out the minor details of a cold case that Lestrade had given him, when John’s nonsensical actions had interrupted him. Without a word, the doctor slipped back into the hallway and then returned carrying a large tote bag filled with tape, scissors, gift tags, and various types of ribbons. The detective started at him with an incredulous and irritated expression.

 

”What exactly are you doing, John? I was in the middle of a case! Something you might have noticed if you had actually cared to -” Sherlock’s rant died in his throat as John fixed him with an exasperated glare.

 

”It’s Christmas Eve, Sherlock… Bloody Christmas Eve and did you remember to wrap these presents for our friends which I asked you to do this weekend? You know, the friends that will be here any minute, now!” the doctor asked, the question dripping with impatience.

 

As John’s eyes bored into him, Sherlock wracked his brain for any recollection of what he could possibly be referring to. This past week, Sherlock and John had bought food for a party, cleaned the flat - well, John called it cleaning; Sherlock called it ruining years of important experiments and discoveries, and John had bought gifts for each of their friends that he had declared to be from the both of them. That last event had happened on Friday, the day before Lestrade had given Sherlock the folder for the current case which he had become consumed with. The detective had spent the entirety of the weekend on the couch as he drifted in and out of his Mind Palace in an attempt to reenact every possible scenario in which the murder could have occurred. The only time he had moved had been when he had gone to his microscope to analyse a particular type of clay only found in the northernmost parts of the country. Thinking back to that moment, he vaguely remembered John trying to engage him in conversation at the time and then it hit him. Oh…. The gifts… Perhaps he actually had asked Sherlock to wrap them while he worked over the weekend, but, as usual, the detective had been oblivious to the world around him.

 

Now John was grumpy, which would eventually lead to John complaining, to John refusing to make tea… With a groan Sherlock covered his eyes with his forearm, knowing that following up on what he apparently promised would probably be the right thing to do.

 

“Where do you want me for this?” Sherlock asked, sitting up on top of the duvet.

 

“On the bed is fine,” John answered already rearranging the wrapping paper. John went to retrieve the bags with gifts from the corner of the room where they had been stashed and hauled them on the bed with a grunt. 

 

Sherlock could hear Mrs. Hudson coming upstairs with the tea tray in her hands. Then he heard Lestrade take it from her after greeting her politely and offering to help. Molly followed in his footsteps and they all settled next door in the sitting room. John didn’t seem to notice the commotion in his wrapping frenzy but it was hardly of any importance.

  
  


“Hold it here, Sherlock,” John instructed pointing to the paper he was cutting. “Oh god,” he sighed tearing the end of the paper. “No, here,” John pointed and moved Sherlock’s hand to place it on the wrapper. “Yes, yes, here is great.”

 

Following John’s lead, Sherlock took a gift from the bag and held it up. It was a glass bauble with colorful, sickeningly happy Christmas images on it.

 

“Oh.” Sherlock looked at the bauble with slight disgust. “I didn’t expect it to look so red when you told me about it,” he balanced the ornament in his palm. “It’s so heavy hanging like that.”

 

John rolled his eyes in exasperation, not in the mood for Sherlock ’s judgment at this point. ”So, you don't like it then? What do you expect me to do about that? Maybe, next time, you shouldn’t wait so bloody long before deciding to give me a hand with these sorts of things and then, you can critique all you want.” the doctor almost growled; his voice was low in his throat and he closed his eyes in an attempt to keep his temper in check. It wouldn’t do to get too angry at Sherlock at this point; they needed to get this done and they’d need to coordinate. 

 

The detective glanced up to see the irritation evident in John’s face and he placed the ornament back on the bed. “Ah, yes… fair point. Well, you have my word. You’ll never have to do this alone ever again. I’m sorry I neglected you and put you in such an awkward situation. It won’t happen again,” he stated matter-of-factly as he did his best to convey his sincerity. 

 

Letting out a strained sigh, John reached out to cup his shoulder and gave him a knowing look, “I know… and it’s all right. Just help me take care of this now so we can clean up and spend time with our friends afterward,”. A soft smile spread over the doctor’s face and Sherlock nodded in understanding. 

 

“Of course,” he replied and then glanced at the pile of gifts in the corner and then back at the ornament on the bed. “Well, how would you like me to start?” he asked, feeling more at ease now that they had smoothed things over between themselves.

 

John was taping the wrapping paper he had cut to the back cover of a large book, but he flicked his eyes toward the ornament once again. “Well, we certainly won’t start with that. You’ll need to be very gentle in order to handle that and I know how rough you can be,” he smirked at his detective and turned his attention to the pile of gifts once he’d finished wrapping the book.

 

He walked over and picked up a boxed set of scented candles he had chosen for Mrs. Hudson. In all honesty, John had hoped that she would see them as a well-deserved apology for all the disgusting, decomposing mess that Sherlock always left lying around everywhere. He knew that those rancid smells had to drift down the stairs and into her flat at times and he hoped she could use the candles to mask the stench. 

 

“For your first, let's at least start with these,” the doctor said, smiling at the thought of doing something as domestic as wrapping presents with Sherlock now that he wasn’t so irritated anymore. Taking the box over to the bed, he handed it to Sherlock who gaped at him in surprise. 

 

“Candles, John? Seriously, just how cliche can you possibly-“ the detective was about to start in with another of his condescending rants, but was cut short when John’s smile faded into a tight-lipped line. Sherlock cleared his throat and tried again. “Sorry, it’s fine… The candles are fine. They’re practical; they’re ambient, romantic…” he said, letting his voice trail off as he smiled up at John, “You’re ever the romantic, aren’t you, John?”. 

 

The smile that followed that deduction was enough to make John’s insides flutter just a bit and he quickly pushed those thoughts and feelings aside. If he let Sherlock start that, they’d be in here for days. “Excellent deduction,” he replied with a curt nod, “Why don’t you get to work instead of mouthing off?”

 

The detective arranged his features into a mock scowl and huffed, “How very rude of you, John! I happen to like the romantic in you and I’m very well aware of just how much you like my smart mouth. There’s a reason you call me brilliant and amazing, after all,”. As John rolled his eyes once again - a habit that he had developed not long after moving in with Sherlock - he groaned loudly and shook his head. His mind stuck on the particular way the detective usually made his rapid-fire deductions. Yes, it was most definitely one of his favorite things about the man, but it was hardly something he needed to indulge in right this moment. Especially when his mind started to recall the other magnificent things Sherlock’s mouth was capable of...

 

“Lick it!” Sherlock held out an envelope to John. It had a Christmas card John had bought for Harry inside. “It’s not my duty to lick this time and it won’t lick itself!.”

 

The doctor eyed the envelope with contempt, but Sherlock nudged it toward him once again in his impatience, “Ugh, fine. You can be so demanding, Sherlock.” John leaned forward flicking his tongue out to lick the envelope and watched the detective close it, then put it on the ‘to send’ pile on the other side of the bed. 

 

”You love that I'm demanding, ”  he stated simply, stealing a look at John out of the corner of his eye. He saw the irritation draining from his face and shoulders as Sherlock reached over and let the backs of his fingers trail over his partner’s cheek. 

 

Closing his eyes and leaning into the touch, the doctor chuckled softly, ”Yeah, I do, you berk. Come on, let's keep going.”

 

John pressed a kiss to the detective’s palm and reached for the spool of red ribbon to start decorating the gifts they had already wrapped in paper.  He unrolled the ribbon and accidentally knocked the spool off of the bed, sighing as it rolled up under the bed.

 

“Damn, it’s longer than I’d imagined. How am I supposed to...? I can’t do it, Sherlock, it's just too much for me to handle,” John said with a hint of self-consciousness in his tone. He scooped up the end of the spool and made an attempt to wind it back up again.

 

Sherlock let out a small laugh and his smile widened, “Yes, you can, John. You’re a soldier after all, as you keep reminding me, you can take more than anyone thinks you can.” Sherlock reached for the scissors and cut the ribbon for the correct length. “You’ll need this first,” sherlock handed John the clear tape to hold the ribbon in place.

 

The tape was a lot stickier than he had anticipated and before he knew it, it was sticking to him like glue. _ Jesus, what sort of tape did Sherlock use?  _ “Wait, it’s sticky. It’s sticking to my fingers!” the doctor yelled in frustration. 

 

With an over-dramatic eye roll, Sherlock took the tape from his hands and instructed John to hold the package still. “You’ll have to hold it the other way, John. Point downwards and voila!” Sherlock graced his flatmate with a proud grin as he presented the wrapped box with a neat bow done up just perfectly on top of it.

 

“You’re much better at this than I am,” John chuckled reaching around the detective for another box. As he brought the package around Sherlock’s waist, he couldn't resist the urge to risk a quick grope to the taller man’s arse in order to accent his praise.

 

Sherlock hummed quietly in response and shot the doctor a sultry look. ”Ah, such flattery, Doctor Watson. However, I believe you have something to do,” the detective quipped as he caught John’s wrist and indicated the bags with gifts still waiting to be wrapped.

 

John fished out a mug he got for Greg that said “Coffee is my division” and placed it in the box in front of him. It sat neatly in the middle of the much larger box and John already felt a scowl directed at him.

 

“Your package is much too big, John.” Sherlock sighed.

 

“It will work, look,” John started putting paper around the cup to fill in the box.

 

“Hey,” Sherlock started removing the paper but John smacked his hand away. “That hurt!”

“Don’t be such a wuss, you can take it…” John froze in his movements the moment he heard a loud gasp coming from the sitting room. Cold sweat broke on his back when he backtraced their conversation.

 

“Oh God...Oh God, Sherlock!” John yelped getting off the bed and mentally kicked himself for what he had just said as this time he heard a giggle outside the bedroom. He tumbled towards the door with Sherlock right behind him.

 


	2. Chapter 2

In the sitting room, Molly and Greg both jumped at the sound of John’s frustration resonating through the flat; their eyes grew wide as the conversation developed behind Sherlock’s closed bedroom door. The words they were hearing left so many questions unanswered, yet their imaginations began to run wild. John was obviously in a strop about something that Sherlock had failed to do and it all seemed to be unfolding rather quickly. 

“Where do you want me for this?” Sherlock had said and John had answered him with a hint of resolve: “On the bed is fine,”. Moments had passed as confusion turned to intense realization as Sherlock could be heard commenting on something and how it was ‘so heavy hanging like that’. They heard John begin to rant about how the defective had no right to critique anything when he hadn’t helped him in the first place which led to a rarely-heard apology. 

Something was said in a muffled tone to which John retorted that Sherlock was apparently “too rough” for whatever it was that had previously been suggested. The inspector stared curiously into the bottom of his cup but tilted his ear toward Sherlock’s bedroom door and strained to catch the next bit of the conversation, but it was too hard to hear.

Just as John’s voice thundered into the sitting room - “Why don’t you get to work instead of mouthing off?”, Greg’s eyebrows shot up and he exchanged a look of sudden alarm with Molly whose mouth was gaping open. 

“Surely they’re not…” he began, but couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought. The inspector pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to shake that particular mental image out of his head.

The door swung open easily then and Mycroft stepped into the room, causing Molly to drop her gaze to the floor, embarrassment flooding her cheeks.

“Are they…?” Greg asked but after looking up at the man who entered, he immediately regretted it.

“Apparently so,” came the answer along with a look that made Greg’s cheeks heat. However, the images that flashed through his mind were not of the couple next door. 

Mrs. Hudson looked between the occupants of the room before taking a sip of her tea.   
“Oh, it’s typical. The boys are always up to something,” she smiled over the rim of her cup. “‘When will you learn how to knock, Mrs. Hudson?’, they keep asking me. But you know, it’s hard to knock when you’re carrying a tray. And God knows they’re most often too busy to get their own biscuits. I have no idea where the honey goes so fast either.”

Greg choked on the sip of the tea he was taking the moment Mrs. Hudson mentioned the honey and Mycroft was obliging enough to smack him in the back. Damn, he was stronger than he looked. 

“Thanks, man.” Greg choked out and received a curt nod from the man with the umbrella.

-

“Oh God...Oh God, Sherlock!” John yelped getting off the bed and mentally kicked himself for what he had just said as this time he heard a giggle outside the bedroom. He tumbled towards the door with Sherlock right behind him.

“John? What happened?” Sherlock tried grabbing John’s arm but the doctor was already out of the bedroom and all but running in the narrow passage to the sitting room.

“It’s not what you think!” John yelled at the crowd gathered on the sofa and chairs. He stopped abruptly in the doorway which meant that Sherlock bulldozed him to the floor as he couldn’t stop fast enough to avoid the collision. 

John was sprawled on the floor with Sherlock on top of him. As if in slow motion, John managed to note everyone’s reaction.

Molly’s eyes were the size of saucers and the hand not holding a teacup covered her mouth. 

Greg’s mouth was hanging open, the tea from his cup spilling to the carpet as his grip was as slack as his jaw.

Mycroft’s eyebrows were desperately trying to hide in his hairline but the trained grip on his cup and saucer didn’t waver. 

And then there was Mrs. Hudson. With a wide smile on her face, eyes crinkling and hands clapping with excitement. “Oh finally!”

“Is there any information you’d like to divulge, little brother?” Mycroft’s voice cut through the room and made John realise he was being crushed.

“Get off of me, you log!” he grunted trying to wiggle from underneath his flatmate.

With grace that was nearly impossible in the cosmic fuck-up of a situation, Sherlock got to his feet and straightened himself up as if nothing had happened. As if a bunch of their friends and family hadn’t listened to a conversation filled with innuendos to the point they thought…

“Oh God…” John felt his cheeks burn as he stood and failed to right himself half as well as Sherlock had.

“As a matter of fact, yes indeed,” Sherlock took a side step towards John so their sides were only centimetres away. “We do have an announcement.”  
Sherlock looked down at John and his eyes softened, his whole expression changed to reveal a small part of the Sherlock only John seemed to know. 

“Yes,” said John smiling up at his friend and reaching for Sherlock’s hand which immediately closed around his own.

“We’re fucking,” Sherlock’s voice contained a mix of happiness and pride while John’s chest seized up as he tried not to have a coronary. “Not now, obviously,” the detective waved his hand in the direction of the bedroom. “In general.” 

This time, Greg’s teacup couldn't take it and clattered to the floor...

”TIMING!” John whisper-shouted.

“Oh? Bit not good?”

John shook his head.

“Okay then.” Sherlock straightened his back a little bit more. “We’re in love,” he looked to John for approval but John’s face was now looking very much like Lestrade’s.

“You...you...love me?” John choked out the words as a chorus of “awwwwwws” came from Molly and Mrs. Hudson.

“I thought it was obvious, John.” Sherlock's lips formed a smirk. “Why else would I have put up with your grumpiness for the last several years?”

John was speechless. The air in the room was so thick it could be cut with a knife. The people in the room ceased to exist. The room ceased to exist. There was only Sherlock and the smirk that morphed into a look of concern as he clearly tried to discern the look on John's face. 

John reached to cup Sherlock's face in his palms and, damn the tall idiot, had to stand on tiptoes to reach the beautiful lips he craved to link with his own.   
Sherlock's hands flew to John's neck and lower back and he pulled him closer, deepening their kiss. Shamelessly exploring John's mouth as he was Sherlock's.

A loud throat-clearing noise broke them from the snogging trance. As John pulled back, he bumped his nose gently against his detective’s before glancing down at the floor. A nervous smile graced his features as he rubbed a hand over the nape of his own neck and felt the heat rising in his cheeks.   
”Sorry about that, I just…. got a bit carried away, I suppose, ” he said, turning to face the rest of the room and scratching anxiously at his eyebrow. He could feel Sherlock’s hand still resting on the small of his back and he realised he was extremely grateful that the detective hadn't moved away from him. 

”Don't be sorry, John. Just, save some of it for later, yeah?” Molly giggled in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere once again, ”Some things are best left to the imagination, after all.” The wink she gave him hadn't gone unseen and everyone in the room began to laugh as John’s face flushed an even deeper shade of red.

Even though he had laughed, he still found it hard to hide the blush that was spreading over his cheeks. His newly established relationship with the world’s only consulting detective was going to take a lot of getting used to in the public eye, but he was looking forward to the adventure. Everything with Sherlock had been and always would be an adventure.

As the room fell back into comfortable conversation, Mrs. Hudson brought out trays of various sweets and snacks, sweeping around the room with a cheerful air about her. John caught her eye once as she passed by and she gave him a knowing look, whispering, ”I'm very proud of you and so happy for you, dear, ” before dashing off, again. He hadn't had a chance to thank her before she was gone, but the ever-widening smile that he wore seemed to be thanks enough. 

Something in the doctor’s chest felt warm and full as he found himself sitting on the sofa with his arm draped behind Sherlock’s shoulders. Lestrade sat on the other side of the detective, discussing in great detail the findings of one of his latest troubling cases. For once in his life, John realised he finally felt a sense of home and family. As long as he shared a life with Sherlock in 221B, he would always have everything he could have hoped for - he would always know where home was.

”John…?” Sherlock’s quiet voice pulled the doctor out of his thoughts and back to their sitting room. He hadn't even noticed that everyone else had made their way into the kitchen to fix their dinner plates - leaving him alone with Sherlock. The detective’s brilliant blue eyes were fixed on him with a hint of concern.

”Hi… Sorry, just letting my thoughts wander a bit. You all right?” John replied, letting his hand cup Sherlock’s shoulder to pull him in for a closer cuddle. The innocent gesture caused Sherlock’s heart to thunder in his chest at the intimacy and he tensed up ever so slightly. 

As his partner’s eyes widened, John did his best to suppress a giggle, ”You’re shy about cuddling? The world can know that Sherlock Holmes has sex and snogs like a teenager, but they can't possibly see him enjoy a cuddle?”. The doctor smirked at the silliness of it all, but something in the detective’s gaze said it was more than that. ”What is it, love?” John asked, encouragingly.

Sherlock sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and chewed it thoughtfully for a moment before he spoke. ”Well, exchanging heated kisses and engaging in sexual acts come quite quickly and easily for most people, do they not? It's all a heat of the moment sort of thing. ’Cuddling’ as you call it,” the word had caught in his throat as if he might gag over it, ”well, that cements a specific attachment and implied intimacy between two people. It's all tangled up in a mess of emotions and ’feelings’... Neither of which I have any reasonable amount of experience with.” As he finished his thought Sherlock glanced down at his hands, knotted together in his lap, and shifted a bit uncomfortably in his seat. 

John couldn't help the affectionate smile that overtook his expression and he ruffled the younger man’s messy mop of hair. ”You won't mess this up, I promise. I've got you, so you're fine. It's all fine… Because I love you, you silly thing,” the doctor said as he brushed the stray curls from his partner’s forehead, letting his hand slip around to cup the back of the detective's neck. His navy blue eyes lingered over Sherlock’s face for a moment longer before he leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to his hairline. ”I love you and that's all there is to it, ”.

Sherlock let his eyes drift closed as John’s lips pressed into his hair and his heart felt like it was going to beat right out of his chest. ”I love you, too, John, ” he replied, letting his arms slip around the doctor’s waist so his fingertips could trace light circles over the fabric of his shirt. He felt John bring his other arm around his shoulder and give him a quick squeeze before breaking their embrace. 

The sounds of laughter and teasing drifted out of the kitchen and John tilted his head toward the commotion, gesturing with his eyebrows, ”Come on. Let's go see what sort of trouble Mrs. Hudson is getting up to now. Bet you five quid she's trying to work her magic on Greg and that straight-laced brother of yours.”

Sherlock’s smirk radiated with curiosity and he stood up, offering a hand to John, ”Oh, I’ll bet you ten they're already a step ahead of her. Mycroft isn't as good at hiding things as he thinks!”. As the doctor took his hand, Sherlock pulled him up off the couch and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. ”Merry Christmas, John. I look forward to many more Christmas Eves and Christmases spent just like this one,” the detective whispered against his ear, letting his lips brush softly against the doctor's skin.

The subtle gesture sent a shiver down John’s spine and he nuzzled into his partner’s neck. ”Merry Christmas, Sherlock. Thank you for the greatest gift I've ever had the pleasure of receiving. I can't imagine a greater feeling, not in all the world.” 

With a small smile, Sherlock chuckled lightly and rubbed the back of his own neck, ”That’s very kind of you, John, and I can only hope that you remember this moment and how happy it made you feel tomorrow, because you may not be as pleased with me when you go looking for your favorite Christmas jumper in the morning.” The detective’s smile widened into something that teetered somewhere between nervous and anxious as he avoided the doctor's heated stare.

”You didn't….” John began, his jaw set in a hard line and trying his best to keep his aggravation from mounting yet again, ”Sherlock, what the hell did you do to my jumper?”. The shorter man’s voice dropped a full octave as he clenched and unclenched one of his fists by his side. How was it that one person could sweep him off his feet and piss him off completely all in one breath?

The detective let out a shaky laugh and his ridiculous grin widened as he attempted to pull John toward the kitchen, avoiding the question completely. ”Meretricious,” he muttered, causing John to roll his eyes with a groan. 

As he ran his free hand over his face, he tried his best not to look his partner in the eye - he knew that if he did, he would only forgive him without consequence in a single heartbeat. Failing miserably, John peeked up over his fingers and saw Sherlock eyeing him with an intense look of uncertainty. The sight tugged at his heartstrings as he let out a long sigh, dropping his hand from his face and giving in completely. ”And a happy new year! Come on, let’s get in there,” the doctor joked, relishing in the grin of relief that spread over his partner’s face. He wrapped his arm around the taller man’s waist then slipped his hand into the back pocket of his partner’s trousers - earning him an adorably startled jump from the detective - as he steered him in the direction of their family and friends.

**Author's Note:**

> Stay tuned for chapter 2!


End file.
